


Fortune and Men’s Eyes

by Anne_Fairchild



Category: The Dresden Files (TV)
Genre: Angst, Descriptions of past physical & sexual violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:51:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Fairchild/pseuds/Anne_Fairchild
Summary: Harry and Bob deal with the sexual and emotional repercussions of their respective pasts, as well as their insecurities and innermost desires.





	Fortune and Men’s Eyes

                                                                      Bob

 

It was somewhere in the wee hours of the morning, past the witching hour, but well before dawn. They had made love for hours, as they had every night and most days since Bob had returned to himself. Sometimes passionate, sometimes slow and sensual, always with a sense of stunned amazement that they could touch and feel each other and it wasn’t a dream. They never slept apart in the bed as two, but curled together as one, warm and safe within the magic circle of their love.  
  
Sensing that Bob was awake, Harry’s hand brushed lightly across the faint stubble beginning to appear on his jaw.  
  
“You’ll have to start shaving in a few days. Bet that’s changed a lot since the last time,” he mused, and was surprised to feel a distinct shiver overcome his now-mortal lover.  
  
“Yes.” The reply was barely audible. Bob had gone stiff in his arms.  
  
“Hey --- why are you so upset about shaving? I mean, you don’t have to, you can grow a two foot beard for all I care. Might tickle in some interesting places, actually,” Harry responded lightly, surprised at Bob’s reaction.  
  
“Not about shaving. About the last time,” Bob muttered against his shoulder.  
  
Harry wasn’t used to Bob leaning on him, either literally or figuratively, and it was still taking him by surprise. It warmed and touched him, even frightened him a little. Each time it happened, Harry’s sense of protectiveness increased. Bob had always given everyone the impression that nothing bothered him, nothing could get the best of him, and nothing really mattered terribly much.

Of course, in his unique position, what else could he have done? Whoever possessed him over the ages, and certainly Uncle Justin, would have been quick to take advantage of any perceived weaknesses if he had exposed them. Harry suspected that he was the first person to see the real Bob, to see Hrothbert, in a very, very long time. He realized that he still knew almost nothing about Bob’s past, and the hurt it obviously continued to bring him. He tightened his grip, his fingers softly caressing thick, wavy hair.  
  
“Want to talk about it?” he suggested. There was no response for several minutes. Bob’s entire body was tense, as if poised for flight from the thoughts that haunted him. Harry waited patiently, holding Bob in undemanding silence, the only sound the far-off wail of a siren.  
  
When he finally spoke, Bob’s tone was melancholy, his voice hesitant.  
  
“I was held in a donjon, in a dark, dank little hole; little more than a cesspit, really. Most men were not meant to come out of it alive. I was there for months, and I was glad to be brought out, even if it was for my trial and sentencing. What was left of my once fine clothing was rags; I was filthy, and I stank. They did their best to demoralize me in any way they could.” Bob’s whispered bitterness filled the room. “And I could not let them see they had succeeded.”  
  
“My sentence, you know. But the Age being what it was, other trials were added before the sentence was to begin, so that I would suffer them for eternity as well. In that time, a man’s hair was rather equated, like those ridiculous pointed shoes, with his virility. The hair on my head they left me, though it was cut very short. But my beard, and all the other hair on my body, was removed,” Bob admitted softly, “after they had their fill of raping me.  
  
“If I remind you of the state of razors in that distant time, you might imagine my horror, and the pain, aside from the attack on my manhood. If I had remained mortal, I would undoubtedly have succumbed to a festering infection --- if not from that, then from the circumcision they also performed. When I was alive, this was an act only undertaken by Jews and others on the fringes of our world. It would mark me forever, in my tormenters’ eyes, as an outcast. I was to be always reminded of just how cursed I was, how worthless in the world of men as well as the Other world.” He fell silent, having run out of the will to further relate his shame.  
  
Harry drew him close, holding him firmly, skin to skin. More than anything else, the matter-of-fact “after they had their fill of raping me”, broke his heart. How had he kept his sanity? Harry thought, too, of the fact that the very last time before he had entered him only a few days ago, Bob had been repeatedly, brutally violated, yet he’d unhesitatingly let Harry take him, without a word. He didn’t remember that anybody had ever trusted him, or loved him enough, to offer him the precious gift Bob had.  
  
“Superstitious bastards,” he hissed, stroking the white head. “I’m so, so sorry. I think what they did to you was more evil than what you did for Winifride. At least, your actions were for love.” He rubbed Bob’s shoulder, pressing soft kisses to a damp temple. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me what happened,” he whispered.  
  
“I don’t know if you know that you aren’t as marked as they hoped you would be. Times change, and most of the men in this time and this place are circumcised; you know I am. And body hair is…well it can be optional, either occasionally or permanently. Your choice. There are lots of choices out there now, and I hope you enjoy them all, if you want to,” Harry told him, a little reluctantly.  
  
“If you’re insinuating, Harry Dresden, that you’re expecting me to fuck around Chicago now that I can, you don’t know me as well as you think you do. Whoever would I tell my darkest shame to but my Heart?” Bob murmured against his collarbone. “YOU are the only thing I want in this mortal world, or shall ever want. I don’t know what’s in my future, but I do know that.”  
  
Bob pulled Harry’s head down and kissed him slowly, followed by long, lazy nibbles and soft sucking at lips and tongue, communicating his feelings with every groan, hiss and cat-stretch of his body against Harry’s. Finally, when both men needed to come up for air, he let go and lay back, his head on Harry’s shoulder.  
  
“In that case,” Harry began, just slightly short of breath, as if Bob’s recent exploration had only briefly interrupted their conversation, “it occurs to me, dear Hrothbert, that there is an act that you might not know very much about, that’s actually more fun in your current state.”  
  
“Really?” Bob sounded a little more cheerful now.  
  
By the time Harry was done with him, he ought to be feeling a lot happier. “Yup. Don’t go anywhere,” Harry cautioned, getting out of bed and rummaging in a dresser drawer. He came back with a bottle of massage oil bearing a soft, faintly musky scent that Bob had previously expressed an appreciation for. He folded the bedclothes back, kneeling over his lover. Celadon eyes watched him with curiosity and affection. With trust. Harry’s stomach did a little flip-flop.  
  
“You’re perfect, just the way you are,” he told his lover earnestly. “I wouldn’t change anything about you. I love your voice, your face, your hands, your mouth, your cock, all of you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re not missing a thing. You couldn’t be.”

For once, although lurking in the shadows, Harry’s sexual shyness with Bob wasn’t totally getting the better of him. He always had the feeling that, having been around for so long, Bob knew it all. Harry felt like he must be pretty much an amateur compared to the mighty Hrothbert.  
  
Bob was relaxed now; at least in body. He stared up at Harry, drinking in the tender words. No one had said such things to him, even Winifride. He’d thought that what they shared had been a Great Love. So many centuries, and Harry Dresden, later, he realized it had been a Great Passion, fueled by a love of power. This was so different! It was gentle, and kind, and pure. What love ought to be. If he had known this as a young man, he might never have been tempted to the Black. How different his life might have been. How different it would be now, with Harry.  
  
“You won’t have to do anything but lie here, milord,” Harry smiled, pouring out a small handful of the oil and warming it in his hands. He leaned forward and ran his palms down Bob’s smooth, pale torso, stopping just where his pubic hair would appear when it returned, stroking up again and back, across shoulders and neck, alternately teasing and soothing the rough pebbles on his chest, stroking his flat belly.  
  
Bob groaned, open-mouthed with pleasure at the touch. It was not only what Harry was doing, it was that Harry was doing it. His head tossed in restless arousal. His cock was definitely beginning to appreciate Harry’s mission. His breathing now a bit ragged, he knew he would enjoy the slow sensuousness of this arousal very much.  
  
In no hurry, Harry continued half caressing, half teasing. In due course head, shoulders, arms and legs were oiled, all the way down to pale toes and arches. He wanted to caress each inch of the slim, muscled body beneath him, to let Bob know the past was just that, and that Harry Dresden was here for him now.  
  
Each time the warm, clever hands came closer to his cock but still did no more than ‘accidentally’ brush it, Bob grew needier and harder. If he had been curious about Harry’s skill as a lover, there was no longer had any doubt that Harry more than satisfied him.. He was being tortured, and he was enjoying every second of it so far, not least Harry’s brown eyes darkening with love and lust.  
  
“Close your eyes,” Harry ordered softly. Bob complied, a little surprised at the pleasure it gave him to obey, and the way he did so without hesitation. Harry poured more oil into his palm. Dividing it between both hands, he spread it lazily over Bob’s hips, cock and scrotum. Bob gave a yelp, growing painfully harder by the second. He half attempted to reach for himself, but Harry caught his wrist. His eyes flickered open for a moment. “Ah-ah,” Harry chided, “eyes closed.”  
  
“Yes, Harry.” Just two whispered words, making it suddenly difficult for Harry to breathe. Love. Trust. Surrender. There was a softness, a gentleness, in Bob’s face of a kind that Harry had not seen before.  
  
Bob was in heaven. He must be. This was….indescribable. Clever hands caressed his testicles, warming, squeezing, tugging, teasing; stroking the underside of his shaft, brushing ever so lightly across the tip with a thumb, and then beginning again. Sometimes, Harry’s hands slid farther back, spreading him, teasing him there, too. Yes, Heaven.  
  
“Harry!” Bob’s breathing was harsh and shuddering.  
  
“Having trouble keeping control of your staff, oh great and mighty wizard?”  
  
“Just --- let me --- “  
  
“Not quite yet,” Harry grinned. “Turn over,” he nudged, motioning for Bob to turn onto his stomach.  
  
“Harry, it’s painful, please….”  
  
“My guess is, in a minute or two, you won’t be noticing. Bear with me,” Harry responded, bunching up a couple of pillows and putting them under Bob’s stomach.  
  
“Damn it, Harry!”  
  
“Shhhh,” Harry soothed, pressing his lips to the dimple of Bob’s spine. He lowered himself, inches from Bob’s ass, and parted the pale cheeks. Bob, thinking he now knew what was coming, and that he actually would be coming soon, sighed in relief. Harry’s thumb teased over and around the small opening, gently at first and then a little less gently. Bob groaned, thrusting against the digit. His whole body shook with the tension wound within him. It wouldn’t be long now. Harry would fuck him and this torment, delightful though it had been, would end. It must end. He wasn’t sure he could bear it much longer.  
  
Harry edged closer, laying the flat of his tongue against the pucker, allowing its heat to register. Very slowly, he lapped from scrotum to anus and back again, long, wet strokes.  
  
“Surprise,” Harry whispered, his breath hot against the shining hole.  
  
“Oh my Ghha---!” Bob gasped, almost unable to breathe. He didn’t know whether to grind himself into the mattress or thrust back into the soft heat of Harry’s tongue and mouth. He had not imagined! His beautiful Harry, who had turned his shame into ecstasy. As Harry’s movements grew more complex, his tongue entering and retreating, circling, teasing, massaging, Bob became completely lost in the exquisite sensations. If this could only last forever….  
  
Bob’s choking sounds of pleasure were making Harry harder than he already was. Bob had given himself over completely, body and soul, and the knowledge awed and humbled him. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to take away some of Bob’s ancient hurt any way he could. With difficulty he rose, kneeling beside the bed and placing his palm on sweat-slick buttocks.  
  
“Hrothbert of Bainbridge, you are henceforth forbidden to feel any less of a man than me or any other. Manhood lives in the head and the heart just as much or more than in the body. You have always been my Master, and you always will be. I love you more than I can ever show you, my lord.” He kissed Bob softly on the lips. “But now, I think we should finish what we started, don’t you?”  
  
“Harry,” Bob sighed. “Harry.” It was a mantra he kept repeating as Harry slid easily inside him, rocking them both into the mattress until the old bed creaked alarmingly. Moments before, Bob had hardly been able to contain himself, thinking only of his own release; now he craved Harry’s cock, his growls of lust, Harry’s sweat dropping onto his back, the heat of hands on hips drawing him back to be invaded again and again; the sharp, rhythmic slap of Harry’s balls against his ass. This was the reason he wanted to live. He hadn’t just wanted to feel this again, he had wanted to feel it with Harry. Maddening, irresponsible, sweet, sexy Harry. Adrift in the sweet, deep, endless fuck, Bob came slowly, riding the wave of Harry’s cock and Harry’s hands until at last he felt himself succumbing to the pull of the inexorable tide and let go.  
  
Harry continued to move, kissing his shoulder, stroking his back; seeking refuge in the man who was now truly all things to him – tutor, friend, father and lover.  
  
Bob lifted his head slightly. “I want to feel you come inside me, Harry.”  
  
There was something about the timbre of his voice now, low and soft, and needy, that went straight to Harry’s cock. The voice that had always calmed and reassured him, told him what to do and when to do it; the voice Harry had come to understand, as he grew up, as Love. He did just what he’d been bidden in a forceful, almost painful climax, leaving him breathless and completely consumed. He heard “ ‘I love you, Harry’ ”, before falling forward across his lover’s back and sinking almost instantly into sleep.  
  
                                                                      ***  
  
The room smelled sharply of sex; a ripe, honest smell that never changed. If one shut one’s eyes, it was difficult to say whether it was 1407 or 2007. Harry slept curled against him, one arm protectively over his back, resting on his stomach. ‘I love you more than I can ever show you’, he’d said, without understanding that he’d done exactly that.

 _Sweet dreams, my Harry. Sweet dreams always, if I have anything to say about it.  
  
_  
                                                                       Harry  
  
  
It was not one of Harry’s better days. Murph had gotten on his case because he was reluctant to help her out with an investigation, and then Kirmani started snarking his ass because Murph had asked him to help. As if that wasn’t enough, Morgan picked that day to come down on him for something the Council wanted, lecturing him on how they were always disappointed in him. Most of the time he would have told Morgan, at least, to fuck off, but some days, the world conspired to make you feel like shit and actually succeeded. All he wanted to do when he got home was crash. He hoped Bob wouldn’t give him a rough time, because he just didn’t know if he could take it tonight. He just wanted to curl up in a ball and hurt.  
  
It was dusk when he pulled up in front of the apartment. The street was full of brightly lit windows, welcoming mothers, fathers and children home to warmth and family. At least Harry now had a taste of what that was like, something he hadn’t had since his father died --- since his father had been murdered and he’d gone to live in the home of the murderer. But, without suffering Uncle Justin, he would not have known Bob. He tried not to think about life without Bob.  
  
As soon as he came in the door, Harry smelled something good, and he chuckled to himself. Bob was discovering he liked to cook. Not that Harry had much appetite today.  
  
“Harry?” Bob’s voice called him into the kitchen. Where Bob was, he wanted to be; life had been reduced to its simplest form lately. HarrywithBob or BobwithHarry.  
  
“Hey. What’s for dinner?” he asked, not really caring. He came up behind Bob and put his arms around him, causing Bob to drop the spoon he’d been stirring with. Harry laid his head against the slim back and hugged silently until Bob eventually disengaged himself to turn around and look at him.  
  
“Bad day?” he asked.  
  
“You could say that,” Harry sighed.  
  
He had the same look behind his eyes that Bob remembered in the 12-year-old Harry, after Justin Morningway had given one of his “I’m disappointed in you, Harry,” speeches. Damn Justin! Neither the boy nor the man felt worth anything, after all those years of being told he just wasn’t measuring up. In the beginning, Bob had given him the same sort of lecture once or twice, but from the moment he began to become fond of Harry and to understand how much that sort of talk hurt him, he’d switched tactics. There were so many ways to get someone to try harder than telling them they were worthless. Someone, or more likely several someones, had been shredding Harry’s self-esteem today.  
  
“I’m sorry. Let’s have dinner, and do our best to forget about it,” Bob encouraged, bringing Harry’s head down for a sympathetic kiss. Harry had a slight smile on his face when he straightened up. “The beard’s coming along, Hrothbert. Nice,” he nodded, acknowledging the week’s growth of coarse prickly gray hair. “Sexy.”  
  
“Do you think so?” Bob smiled, beginning to see how he might be able to help Harry tonight.  
  
“Ohyeah,” Harry responded. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he looked embarrassed, shy. No, this would have to stop.  
  
“Thank you, Warden Dresden,” he teased. “Why don’t you take a shower, and I’ll open the wine,” he suggested, giving Harry a little push in the direction of the bedroom.  
  
“Uh, yeah, okay. Give me a few minutes,” Harry sighed, his cheer quickly dissipating.  
  
“Take your time,” Bob encouraged him.  
  
Stripping off his clothes and turning on the shower, Harry wondered if Bob thought he was anywhere near as hot as he thought Bob was --- if he turned Bob on even close to as much as Bob did it for him. He wanted to jump the man’s bones every minute they were together, making up for lost time. But Bob always had that calmness, that dignity, the equilibrium Harry could never quite upset, even when he tried.  
  
Bob was both his safest, deepest refuge and his total passion. His need for Bob was starting to outstrip everything else, and it terrified him that Bob wouldn’t quite feel the same. He never really knew what Bob was thinking, even now. Their intimacy had progressed in leaps and bounds, but it hadn’t come that far; maybe it never would. He was just as guilty. He was afraid to let Bob see how much he needed him, and wanted him. He’d spent much of his life tongue-tied, unable to explain exactly what was in his heart to anyone.  
  
The shower, instead of relaxing Harry, only ended up further depressing him. He’d have to dry off, dress and try his damnedest to eat whatever Bob had fixed and then hope for refuge tonight, because he really needed it. Life was spinning out of control; he wanted to stop the world and get off for a while, even if it was just a few hours.  
  
Harry opened the shower door and reached for his towel --- and found only air. Shivering, he opened the door all the way, to find Bob standing just outside the bathroom, staring at him. Just…staring at him. At all of him, from head to toe. Harry shivered again, and it wasn’t from the cold.  
  
“Bob? Is something wrong?”  
  
“There isn’t a thing wrong, Harry,” Bob told him. “I simply love to look at you. Naked. Awake. Asleep. Wet. Dry. Fucking me. Being fucked.”  
  
Harry’s jaw dropped. He felt himself flush, and realized that it was half with embarrassment and half with lust.  
  
“Come here.”  
  
Shit. How could Bob make That Voice of his, the one Harry had always obeyed as a kid, so…sensual? Sexual? Hot.  
  
Really tongue-tied now, Harry stumbled forward, dripping on the carpet. Bob reached out and placed his hand on Harry’s chest, lightly swirling through the dripping hair with his fingertips, pulling at curls here and there, stroking firmly. His thumbs rolled over Harry’s nipples, erect from the cold, pressing and pinching. Bob’s eyes never left his face. Harry felt a rush of blood to his cock as he grew light-headed with lust.  
  
“You don’t know how much I want you --- what your body does to me. You arouse me so. Every minute of every day, I want to fuck you or suck you, Harry Dresden,” Bob admitted. “The hair on your beautiful body, the hair you so cavalierly offered to remove for a lark, drives me insane. If you should ever actually make good on your threat, I would be very unhappy. Do you understand?” he hissed, kneeling, scrubbing his fingers through the thick black thatch of hair crowning Harry’s rapidly stiffening cock. He leaned forward and buried his face in it, taking it in his teeth and pulling…hard.  
  
Harry gasped in pain, and his cock grew harder.  
  
“Yesss,” he acknowledged. “I won’t. I won’t, I swear…!”  
  
“Good boy.”  
  
At the words, Harry came. A thin spray of cum shot over Bob’s face before he took Harry in his mouth and sucked him dry.  
  
“Lick it off.” Shaking, Harry tasted his own sex, his tongue roaming over Bob’s face – nostrils, upper lip, cheeks, chin. He forced his tongue between Bob’s full lips, raping his mouth when Bob didn’t make it easy for him.  
  
“Yes. Yes!” Bob growled, “want me! Want me as much as I want you, and let me see it,” he coaxed.  
  
“Please --- bed…?” Harry panted.  
  
“I thought you’d never ask,” Bob smiled, standing and pushing Harry across the room. “Will you undress me?” he asked.  
  
“Do you want me to?” Harry asked, beginning to catch on.  
  
“Very much,” Bob acknowledged.  
  
“C’mere,” Harry beckoned, sitting. Bob came to sit beside him, waiting. The t-shirt came first, soaked with sweat. As he pulled it off over Bob’s head, Harry leaned in and licked under his arm, drawing in the sharp scent, nipping down the slimly muscled torso, leaving a trail of tiny red marks, then soothed by Harry’s tongue. He flicked at pale nipples with his tongue, pleased to hear sharp, hiccoughing breaths catch in Bob’s throat.  
  
Shoes and socks came next, and then it was Harry’s turn to stare down Bob. “Do you think I can make Hrothbert of Bainbridge come in his pants?” he asked. Bob’s eyes grew large.  
  
“Let’s find out,” he taunted. Harry pushed him onto his back, his head at the foot of the bed, and pressed his face to Bob’s crotch, holding hard to his ass, not allowing him to do more than squirm slightly. He nosed the bulge, inhaling Bobsex. Drawing the painfully compressed package into his mouth, he sucked, hard, dampening the fabric. Bob groaned, loudly, his hands carding roughly through Harry’s hair.  
  
“I want you to fuck me all night,” Harry rumbled against his stomach. “Fuck me, and then we’ll sleep, and then you’ll fuck me again until the sun comes up.”  
  
“You have…a high opinion…of my…powers of…recuperation, young man,” Bob gasped, tears of lust in his eyes.  
  
“Yep, my money’s on you, Bob,” Harry mock-shrugged, moving the heel of his hand in a circle, pressing harder with each circuit.  
  
“Harry --- “ Bob warned.  
  
“Come for me, Hrothbert,” Harry ordered softly. Bob arced up against him, thrusting erratically until Harry felt a damp warmth beneath his hand. He pressed down again, more gently this time, spreading the wetness until Bob’s pants were soaked.  
  
“I win,” Harry whispered, shocked at the thrill of his own aggression.  
  
A deep laugh welled up from Bob. “I would say, darling Harry, that we both won.”  
  
“It’s beginning to look that way,” Harry grinned, pulling Bob’s trousers down over his hips and off, staring at his own cum, opalescent on Bob’s thighs.  
  
“Talk to me?” Bob asked softly, stroking Harry’s cheek. Harry knew exactly what he meant. He nodded, hesitant.  
  
“Yes,” he answered. “Tonight, I can’t hold it back --- I know it’s what you’ve wanted, and I’ve tried, but I couldn’t. Now, it’s like I can’t keep quiet any more. But you have to talk to me, too,” he begged, “because it’s still not easy.”  
  
“Of course,” Bob nodded. “And it’s not easy for me, either. Always in control of himself, is Hrothbert. Never letting anyone inside --- except Harry. I need you, Harry. You cannot imagine how much I need you and want you. I say that again and again and it’s just words,” he hissed in frustration. He pulled Harry down beside him for deep, rough kisses, thrusting hard, his cock scrubbing brutally against Harry’s.  
  
Harry grabbed him and held on, matching thrust for thrust, until the storm waned and Bob let go. His lips were reddened, his eyes a bit wild.  
  
“You’re worth everything to me,” Bob rasped hoarsely. “All those times I encouraged you to bring women home, watching you fuck them --- oh yes, I had to watch, I needed to torment myself, of course --- cursing the stupid bitches for not wanting you, for not knowing what they could have, and hoping against hope that you didn’t really want them but me, and knowing I could not have what they were throwing away. I nearly went mad, Harry.”  
  
For Bob, this was almost babbling. Harry smiled in reassurance, tracing kiss-swollen lips with a fingertip before applying his own lips gently as a balm.  
  
“Make love to me. Fuck me into the floor. I need you touching me, telling me you love me, telling me I’m sexy," Harry sighed. “If you tell me, I’ll believe it.”  
  
“Beautiful Harry,” Bob smiled, taking Harry’s right nipple into his mouth, sucking, teasing with his tongue. Harry groaned, loudly, grabbing a fistful of Bob’s hair.  
  
“More,” Harry gurgled. “Feels so good.” He urged Bob to the other nipple; both were becoming swollen and exquisitely sensitive as Bob’s tongue and mouth bathed his chest, tickling through the thick, soft curls. Bob followed the snaking arrow of dark hair to Harry’s nether curls, taking them in his mouth more gently than he had earlier.  
  
“If you got a nipple ring, it would feel even better,” Bob hummed against the base of his erection.  
  
“Where did you hear about nipple --- oh, geezus --- god!” Harry whined, his hips thrusting up against Bob’s mouth. “You make me so hot!”  
  
“I’m glad to hear that.” Bob’s response was droll, but as he gazed up the sweating, aroused body of his lover to see the pleasure/pain on Harry’s face, his heart twisted. Mine.  
  
He took hold of Harry’s ankles and slid his legs up towards his body, situating himself between Harry’s knees, and lowered his head.  
  
“Bob!” The word was like a whoosh of breath that left Harry unexpectedly, stunned. Bob’s mouth and hands were everywhere, coaxing, teasing, loving, taunting…invading. Bob was reciprocating his actions of last week --- very skillfully. Truth be told, he had rimmed Bob because he’d always wanted someone to do that to him, and he hadn’t had enough of it in the few encounters he’d had where his partner had been into it.  
  
“Shit! How…did you…learn to do…that?” Harry gasped.  
  
“There’s a charming little video shop ‘round the corner,” Bob responded, sinking a finger knuckle deep.  
  
“Gaaah! You rented porn vids? Oh, Bob,” Harry laughed, or tried to, but really, what Bob was doing to him just wasn’t funny. It was incredible.  
  
“Was I a good student?” Bob asked, finger-fucking him slowly, devouring agonizingly taut testicles with his mouth.  
  
“Ahhh, damn!” Harry groaned, his hips moving in synch with Bob’s fingers. “The best! The best, you sexy necromancer, you,” he chuckled. The laughter again died in his throat at the hot wetness of Bob’s mouth, kissing him in so intimate a place. This was better than all his adolescent fantasies put together. “I think…I think you’d better keep going. I think I need at least another hour of this. Or two.”  
  
“You forget that I’m no longer young, nor does my strength go on forever, although being with you can make me think so,” Bob smiled down at him.  
  
“In that case…fuck me. Fuck me, Hrothbert of Bainbridge --- and get a move on, eh?” Harry smiled back, eyes full of love.  
  
“To do so is my greatest joy,” Bob told him softly, rising to his knees, pulling Harry closer.  
  
Eyes closed, Harry whimpered at Bob’s first breach of him. He wanted to remember, to let it soak into his heart to keep away all the memories of loneliness and sadness in his life. He was done talking, he wanted to live and breathe this.  
  
The steady rhythm, neither fast nor slow, was comforting, like a heartbeat or a lullaby. Hot; sweet. Bob.  
  
Each time he thrust, Harry made a soft noise, halfway between a grunt and a sigh, that spurred Bob on. He knew Harry thought he was flattering when he called his lover beautiful, but Hrothbert had known beauty in his time, both male and female, and Harry was beautiful. Not only his physical appearance, but his heart. To appreciate that true beauty had been Bob’s hardest lesson.  
  
“Deeper,” Harry moaned, hands clawing at Bob’s ass.  
  
“Soul deep,” Bob sighed, leaning in, giving Harry what he wanted. What he could finally ask for.  
  
“Hard,” Harry grated through clenched jaws. “Hard.” His hands were now on his cock, stroking himself roughly. Each time Bob entered him, his pubis raked over Harry’s balls.  
  
It was Harry’s need, burning in his eyes and his voice, that enabled Bob to continue. He was exhausted, every muscle in his body protesting the prolonged exercise, but Harry needed him. Wanted him. Life was good. Life was --- life. Hrothbert was alive again, and he would do this all night if he could, for the sheer joy of it, and for Harry.  
  
“ ‘es. ‘essss. Need you, Bob. Need you now. Harder,” Harry gasped. Bob obliged. He could feel the sweat running down his back. Inhaling the intense musk of Harry’s arousal, he could feel his climax building from deep within. It spiraled through his entire body rather than being centered in his groin.  
  
“You belong to me, Harry Dresden,” Bob gasped for air, “and I will never let you go. Never,” he vowed before releasing himself, in more ways than one, into Harry. When he could think again, his hands reached up to cover Harry’s, so that they were both stroking Harry’s cock, but only for seconds. Harry sobbed his name, coming explosively, his cum splattering against Bob’s belly. When Harry was as drained of passion and strength as he was, Bob moved to withdraw.  
  
“No, don’t,” Harry asked softly.  
  
“All right,” Bob smiled, smoothing the hair back from his forehead. He lowered himself, laying his head on Harry’s chest, where he remained until he sensed Harry had at last drifted off to sleep, then he carefully withdrew to lie beside Harry. Perhaps he would get up and clean them both off before he allowed himself to sleep; perhaps he would not, for both the lure of Morpheus and his need not to move from Harry’s side just now were strong.  
  
Hrothbert found himself remembering a sonnet that Will Shakespeare had composed so many years ago. Thinking back on his life, both corporeal and not, he nodded to himself, reciting it in his head. Will was a very clever man, he thought, before slipping into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
  
  
  
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,  
I all alone beweep my outcast state  
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries  
And look upon myself and curse my fate,  
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,  
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,  
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,  
With what I most enjoy contented least;  
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,  
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,  
Like to the lark at break of day arising  
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;  
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings  
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.  
  
\- William Shakespeare-


End file.
